


loose lips sink ships all the damn time

by arysa13



Series: prompts filled (bellarke) [22]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Image, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 14:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18813166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Clarke has always known Bellamy is too good for her, but it still hurts when strangers on the internet think that too.





	loose lips sink ships all the damn time

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: clarke and bellamy are in a stable relationship but someone makes a comment about her body, and she starts to feel uncomfortable and diets, doesn't feel good being naked in front of him and he notices

Clarke has always known that Bellamy would make it big someday. They’ve been together since he was in drama school and he starred in a short film she wrote. It’s still the best thing she’s ever made, and it’s not because it’s her best writing (far from it), it’s because _he_ made it amazing.

Since then, Clarke has given up writing scripts, finding she’s better suited to novels, and Bellamy has had a lot of small roles in TV shows. There were a couple of recurring characters, and once, the villain in a sci-fi show that ended up being cancelled after a season. But _finally_ , his fucking agent did something good for once, and got him an audition for a big action trilogy, which _of course_ he got the lead for, starring opposite the mega-famous supermodel/actress, Echo Whiting.

The premiere was last night, and people are already going crazy for it. Bellamy has never been the type to keep up with social media, or read reviews about his work, but Clarke loves it. She gets a thrill every time she sees his name pop up on her Twitter or Facebook feed, whether it’s a review of his brilliant performance or just a fan screaming about how much they love him. Sure, it gets weird sometimes, especially because a lot of his fans are thirsting after him, but she hardly ever reads anything negative about him.

He’s still asleep, and Clarke elects not to wake him up. He finally has some time off after weeks of interviews and appearances, and Clarke isn’t about to ruin his first day to sleep in.

She opens Twitter on her phone, and searches Bellamy’s name. The latest tweet is a link to an article of the best and worst dressed from the premiere last night, and Clarke clicks on it, already knowing Bellamy will be in the _best_ category. She finds him at number two, after Echo, and she stares at his picture, smiling to herself. She loves him because he’s kind and selfless and funny and talented. But he’s also really hot as well.

The caption reads: _Bellamy Blake can do no wrong when it comes to fashion. We don’t care what he wears, as long as he keeps showing up to give us that dreamy smile._

Clarke continues scrolling, until she reaches the worst dressed. Okay, if it were up to her, these lists wouldn’t even exist. But also, secretly she kind of likes judging other people’s clothes. She has to agree that number one on the list is kind of awful. There are just too many colours on Ontari’s dress, and all of them clash. The second one Clarke doesn’t think is so bad, but then, she’s no fashion expert.

She continues scrolling, and her stomach drops when she sees none other than herself at number three. She hadn’t even realised anyone was paying attention to her. She’s not even in the movie. She’s not a famous actor. She’s just Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend.

She doesn’t even think she looks that bad in the dress she wore last night. She felt sexy at the time, in skin tight red, and if the way Bellamy pulled her out of it after they got home last night was any indication, he thought she looked sexy too.

Her eyes scan the caption, wondering why she’s made the worst dressed list.

_Look guys, we have nothing wrong with the dress itself. But Clarke, honey, it’s not for you. She needs a stylist that can dress her for her body type, and hide all the unflattering bits. Oh, and by the way, this is a red carpet, not the red light district. Put those things away!_

Clarke feels sick to her stomach. She looks at the picture again, and suddenly she can see what they’re talking about. The dress stretches over her stomach and thighs, making her look bigger than she is. Or maybe she really is that big. And the dress probably is too low cut for someone with breasts like Clarke’s. Echo would probably look really good in the dress.

“Hey,” Bellamy says sleepily, cuddling up to her. Clarke exits the article quickly, blinking back tears.

“Sorry,” Clarke says. “Did I wake you?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. What were you reading?”

“Just a stupid article,” Clarke says.

“You’re not googling me again, are you?” Bellamy grins. Clarke smiles back at him. She has to remind herself that it doesn’t matter what one dumb article says about her. Bellamy’s opinion is the one that matters, and he loves her and thinks she’s beautiful.

“Someone has to do it,” Clarke says.

“Well, thank you for being my biggest fan,” Bellamy says, leaning over her to kiss her. He takes her phone from her hands, placing it aside, continuing to kiss her, letting his hands roam over her body. She tenses when he grips her thigh, and he stops. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says quickly. God, she’s so stupid. She can’t let the words of some bitch pretending to be a journalist get to her. They’re just jealous that Clarke is with Bellamy. And who could blame them?

Even knowing this, she pushes him off her and scoots out of bed.

“I just really need to pee,” she says, shooting him a smile to show him she’s okay.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her, but he doesn’t push it. “Okay,” he says. “We should probably get up anyway. I still have to pack.”

“We have time,” Clarke says. “Go back to sleep.” He gives her that dreamy smile everyone is so in love with, then falls back against the pillows. Clarke heads to the bathroom, wondering if she should have told him about the article. Except she already knows what he’d say. He’d tell her the article is wrong, and that they’re just trying to get attention, and that she needs to stop reading that shit. And he’d be right, obviously. Which is why she doesn’t tell him.

 

-

 

Clarke decides she’s going to go social media free for a couple of weeks, while she and Bellamy are in Fiji. He has some time off, and while he loves his job and his fans, Clarke knows he tires of being the centre of attention. It will be good for the two of them to disappear, even if just for a little while.

“No Twitter, no Facebook, no Instagram. I’m not even going to use Google,” Clarke tells Bellamy, putting her phone on the charger. They’re staying in a tiny little private villa, close to the beach, and Bellamy is already dressed in his swim shorts. It’s a distracting sight.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I also know you very well. If you last the day I’ll be surprised,” he grins.

“That sounds a lot like you don’t believe me,” Clarke pouts.

Bellamy laughs. “I believe you want to try.”

“I’ll show you,” Clarke says, poking her tongue out. “I’m not even going to take my phone with me to the beach.”

“That sounds like a brag, but I don’t get why you would even need a phone at the beach.”

“Photos,” Clarke says. She picks up her phone and snaps one of him to prove her point. “That’s going to be my new lock screen.”

Bellamy shakes his head, amused. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “The ocean is calling to me.”

Clarke takes his hand, grabbing her towel from the bed on the way. They make the five minute walk to the beach hand in hand. It’s perfect beach weather, warm and not too windy, and yet there is hardly anyone else on the beach. They lay their towels down, and Bellamy waits for Clarke to take her dress off so they can get in the water. She hesitates, just for a moment. The words from the article run through her mind, reminding her about all her _unflattering bits._ She’s just wearing a bikini underneath the dress, and it doesn’t cover all that much. She hadn’t looked in the mirror when she put it on, and she’s suddenly worried about what she looks like in it.

Steeling herself, Clarke hurriedly pulls the dress over her head and puts it down on her towel, trying to keep her stomach covered with her arms as long as possible. When she looks up, Bellamy is staring at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. He smirks. “Just wish we were back at the villa instead of on this very public beach.”

“You wanted to come to the beach.”

“Yeah, but that was before I saw you in that bikini.”

“Stop it,” she says, giving him a playful shove. She still loves it when he gets all flirty with her, looks at her like he wants to devour her. Yet part of her wonders if he’s just putting it on. Acting like he wants her more than he really does. He grabs her arm and tugs her close, kissing her. “We shouldn’t do this here,” Clarke murmurs between kisses.

“Why?” Bellamy whispers back.

“You’re famous. People might recognise you and take pictures.”

“I don’t care.”

Clarke breaks away from his lips, trailing her fingers down his arm and taking his hand. “We’re going swimming first,” she says, pulling him towards the ocean. “And then when we get back to the villa you can do whatever you like to me.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees, and he lets Clarke lead him into the shallows. He grabs her around the waist, and she shrieks, laughing as he kisses her, then pulls her down into the water. He loves her, Clarke reminds herself. He loves her and he wants her, regardless of what anyone else says. She has to remember that.

 

-

 

Out of stubbornness and nothing else, Clarke makes it the whole two weeks without social media. She does feel proud of herself, but the true prize is Bellamy admitting he was wrong for doubting her.

Of course, the first thing she does when they get home is open Twitter, while Bellamy does the responsible thing and starts unpacking his suitcase.

She goes through her notifications, liking questions from fans about her next book so she can answer them later. She reads every tweet she’s mentioned in, which usually isn’t that many, seeing as it’s been a while since her last book came out, and though she’s on Twitter a lot, she doesn’t actually tweet that much. Occasionally she’ll get people asking her about Bellamy, but she never replies to those ones.

There is a tweet from what looks like a Bellamy Blake fan account, judging from the username.

**Give Bellamy Blake an Oscar** @bblakefan291

_@clarkegriffinwrites did you see this? people are so mean_

Clarke clicks on the tweet, wondering what mean things people could possibly be saying about Bellamy. She doesn’t want to get into a Twitter war over it, and she probably won’t tell him if it’s too harsh, but she feels like she needs to know anyway.

She finds the tweet is a reply to a picture, a photo taken of her and Bellamy while they were at the beach. Her first thought is that they both look really happy. They’re standing in the shallows and he’s got his arm around her and she has the biggest smile on her face. Then she reads the comment that goes with it.

**Kelly** @bechorise

_No offence but he can do so much better lol. What is he even doing with her?_

Clarke rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. It doesn’t matter to her what some random on the internet has to say about her relationship with Bellamy.

She knows she should just exit the app and forget about it, but she sees the tweet has three hundred likes already, and fifteen replies, and she can’t resist scrolling down to see what other people are saying. Perhaps some part of her hopes there are people defending her.

**Bellamy and Echo** @bellamyandecho

_He should be with someone actually hot. Like Echo!!!!!_

**Georgia** @georgiagg55

_She actually has a pretty face but she really needs to lose a few pounds_

**hell is empty** @ladygagaisshakespeare

_lmao someone finally said it_

**Bellamy Blake’s Wife** @wifeofbellamyblake

_I’m hotter than she is he should be with me!!!_

**becho are secretly dating** @bechoes

_don’t worry, this is just a cover, he’s actually with Echo. It would literally make no sense for him to be dating this nobody lol that’s all the proof you need_

**frankie** @franksfornothing

_you can tell she’s way more into him than he is into her. He’s going to break up with her soon I can feel it. Then we celebrate ladies!_

There are a couple of tweets defending her, but the replies to those tweets are just other people telling them to shut up. The worst one is where someone has reposted the picture, but they’ve circled and labelled all her flaws. Her cellulite, her stretch marks, the rolls of fat around her stomach.

Her chest is tight and her eyes well with tears. It’s stupid, she knows it’s stupid. They’re just strangers on the internet whose opinions shouldn’t matter. But the thing is, she’s always kind of suspected she’s not good enough for him. When he first asked her out, she had trouble believing it wasn’t some kind of dumb prank. Guys that look like that don’t date girls that look like Clarke. They date girls that look like Echo Whiting.

And it’s not that Clarke thinks Bellamy is cheating on her, or wants to cheat on her, or is secretly planning to break up with her when the time is right. But she can see what everyone else sees. That he’s better than her. He’s more talented, he’s more charismatic, he’s more attractive. Clarke doesn’t deserve him, and she’s always kind of known it. Deep down, there’s this fear that one day he’s going to wake up and realise he can do better, and then he’ll leave her. To have other people validate that fear, to have strangers on the internet voice her worst and darkest thoughts about herself and her relationship—it just makes it seem more real.

The thought of losing Bellamy makes her ache. What if he sees this picture, sees how out of her league he is, starts seeing her the way she really is? How long would it take him to stop touching her, because he thinks she’s too fat? Stops taking her as his date to awards shows and premieres because he realises she makes him look bad?

“Okay, I’m done unpacking,” Bellamy says, strolling out from the bedroom. Clarke quickly brushes the tears from her eyes, swallowing. She can’t tell him about this. He’ll think she’s stupid, or he’ll think she’s right, and either way she doesn’t want to deal with it. He stops, frowning, his face etched with concern. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. Evidently, she hasn’t hidden her tears as well as she would have liked. “Just watched a dog video.”

Bellamy smiles. “Cute. You want to get pizza for dinner? I’m not really in the mood for cooking.”

Clarke hesitates. Pizza does sound good. But perhaps she shouldn’t be eating pizza, if she actually wants to keep her boyfriend. “You can get pizza if you want. I’m not that hungry.”

“I can just order you some garlic bread if you want.”

Clarke huffs. “No, Bellamy. I don’t want garlic bread.”

“But you love garlic bread. And you might be hungry later. You can heat it up—”

“I said I don’t want it,” Clarke snaps. Bellamy snaps his mouth closed, frowning. Clarke takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I think I’m just tired from the flight. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. Clarke doesn’t look at him as she heads to the bathroom, but she knows he’s watching her, confused as to why she snapped at him. Clarke doesn’t even really know herself, except that he’s encouraging her to eat things that will make her fat, and that annoys her.

While she’s in the shower, she decides she’s going to start a diet in the morning. Cut out carbs completely maybe. Only eat things that are green.

She towels herself off and puts her pyjamas on and gets into bed. She can smell Bellamy’s pizza when it arrives. Her stomach grumbles. When he comes into the bedroom to offer her some, she pretends to be asleep.

 

-

 

Clarke starts her diet the next morning. While Bellamy is still asleep, she plans out what she’s allowed to eat for the for the week and sticks the chart on the fridge with a magnet. She’s already hungry just looking at it. But she’s sure she’ll get over that.

Breakfast today is just half a grilled tomato. Bellamy wanders into the kitchen as she plates it up.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“A tomato.”

“What’s it for?”

“Breakfast.”

The look Bellamy gives her is sceptical. “That’s not breakfast, Clarke. At least have some toast with it.”

“Can you stop telling me what to eat?”

Bellamy actually flinches. Clarke stabs her tomato with her fork, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh huh,” she says. She doesn’t look up from her plate. “I just really have a craving for grilled tomato,” she says. She keeps talking before Bellamy can say anything else. “Anyway, I need to get some writing done this morning, so I’m going to be in my office for a few hours,” she says quickly, picking up her plate and hurrying to her office.

She hardly gets any writing done. She’s hungry and she can’t think straight and she feels guilty for snapping at Bellamy for no reason. She’s written two sentences in two hours by the time she hears Bellamy get back from his run. She sighs to herself, leaving her work and finding him in the bedroom, stripping off his sweat soaked shirt.

“Hey,” she says, poking her head into the room. Bellamy looks up, throwing his shirt into the laundry basket. “Sorry about before.”

“It’s fine, Clarke,” he says. He folds his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. Clarke quickly meets his eyes. This is a serious conversation. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on though?”

Clarke shrugs. “Must be getting my period.” All manner of weird behaviour can be excused that way, right?

“That’s it?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy sags. “Fuck, Clarke,” he says. “You had me really worried.”

“You were worried? About what?”  

“Yeah,” he says softly, walking over to her. He takes her hands in his. “I thought—I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” He kisses her softly, then a little harder. He presses her against the doorframe, crushing her against his sweaty chest. Clarke’s heart races as she kisses him back, her need for him growing.

“Bellamy,” she whispers, her voice husky. He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks.

“Yes?”

“I need you.”

“Come and shower with me,” Bellamy says, his lips against hers again, his hands still holding hers. He tugs her towards the bathroom, and Clarke lets him pull her with him. He doesn’t even bother shutting the bathroom door before he’s kissing her again. His hands slide under her shirt, and she tenses up instinctively, thinking about the circles that person drew on her picture, pointing out her chubby stomach. Bellamy stops instantly, pulling back.

“Clarke?”

“It’s okay,” she says, even though it’s not. She wants him, she really wants him. But the thought of him seeing her like the rest of the world sees her makes her sick. She looks okay in her baggy shirt and jeans, but she doesn’t want him to see her naked. Not until she’s lost some weight, and she can look like a girlfriend he can actually be proud of. “I just—um,” she steps back, away from him, eyes on the floor. “I changed my mind. I—” she feels her throat closing up. She tries to swallow, so she won’t cry.

“Clarke, baby,” Bellamy says softly. “What’s going on? Tell me.”

She looks up at him, just as a tear rolls down her cheek. She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to think I’m ugly,” she says, and it sounds so stupid she could laugh, if her chest didn’t ache so much.

“Ugly?” Bellamy shakes his head. “Why would I ever think you’re ugly?”

Clarke sobs, though she tries to hold it back. The truth spills out of her. “Everybody thinks I’m not good enough for you. And they’re right. Why are you even with me, when you could have anybody you want? Someone who’s actually in your league?”

“Clarke—” Bellamy says, searching her eyes, confused and concerned. “I don’t understand. Who thinks you’re not good enough for me?”

Clarke pulls her phone from her back pocket and opens Twitter. It only takes her a moment to find the tweet.

“I don’t get it,” Bellamy says. “This is a good picture.”

“Read the comments, Bellamy.”

Bellamy looks back to the phone, his eyes scanning the screen as he scrolls. His expression gets darker and darker as he reads. He looks up, his eyes hot with rage.

“Clarke,” he says. “This is a load of bullshit. I love _you_ and I want to be with _you_. Just the thought of you thinking you’re not good enough for me—” he cuts himself off with a huff. “Fuck anyone who makes you think that,” he growls.

Clarke shrugs. “But look at me,” she says. “And look at you.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, his anger turning to anguish. “Don’t say that. You’re beautiful. What can I do to make you believe me?”

“Nothing, Bellamy,” Clarke huffs. “It’s not your fault. I believe you believe that. But one day you’re going to wake up and realise you should be with someone who makes you look good. Someone like Echo.”

“I’ll quit the movie,” Bellamy says. “I’ll quit acting entirely. None of it means anything if I don’t have you.”

Clarke shakes her head, tears falling again. “Don’t give up your dream because of me.”

“Don’t leave me,” Bellamy says, his voice trembling. “I love you. I love you.”

Clarke’s heart misses a beat. “I’m not leaving you,” she says. “God, Bellamy. This isn’t a break up.”

Bellamy exhales, his relief evident. He takes her face in his hands. “Clarke. You have to know, I think you’re gorgeous. I don’t want you to ever doubt that. But I don’t love you because of the way you look. I love you because of _you._ All of you. I love you exactly as you are, and I will love you if you change entirely, and I will love you if you stay the same.”

Clarke’s heart thrums in her chest. She puts her hand over his. With his words, the fierce sincerity in his eyes, her doubts vanish. He’s never once made her feel like she’s not worthy of him, and the fact that she let some childish internet trolls make her believe any different fills her with shame.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should never even have read those comments. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or that I think you’re shallow—”

“Hey, hey,” he says. “You don’t have to be sorry. You feel how you feel. But I want to know how you feel too, okay?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy drops his hands from her face. “Would you really quit acting for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”

“You know I would never ask you to do that, right?”

“I know,” Bellamy says. “And that’s why I would.”

Clarke shakes her head, smiling. “I’m the last person who would want you to give up acting. You know I’m your biggest fan, right?”

Bellamy smiles. “And I’m yours.”

 


End file.
